Michael Degenhardt Poet Quatrain

Soccer Lessons

With speed of light
Fast, furious feet
The little boy ran
Not skipping a beat

With breaths of fire
A wish for a goal
He escaped from the pack
With the ball, there in tow

He ran down the field
To the yells of the crowd
Soccer was his game
With a smile, he was proud

He pulled back his foot
He thrust it for a shot
His face turned beet red
As he gave it what he got

But the goalie was hot
As my son took his kick
Sad at that time
That the goal didn’t stick

Off from the field
Still a smile on his face
He knew he did his best
So he still took first place

My boy was so wise
To know at just eight
Not the place that you finish
That makes you seem great

It’s the effort of the person
Doing the best that you can
I couldn’t believe the wisdom
From my boy, this little man

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